


Blue

by ghostwriter00797



Category: Stretch Armstrong and the Flex Fighters (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Season Two, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Sort Of, slight spoilers for season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 16:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwriter00797/pseuds/ghostwriter00797
Summary: Blue has always been Jake Armstrong's least favorite color.





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is.

Blue has always been Jake Armstrong’s least favorite color.

It’s the color of his mother’s eyes, glassy and staring at nothing in death. It’s the sky on the day of her funeral, mocking him for weeks afterward. It’s the dress she was going to wear that night, handing untouched in the closet as one of the only reminders that she had been there. It’s the hard set of his father’s eyes as even that is taken away from him in the night.

It’s the color of his school uniform, bright against the clean, white buildings of Charter City as he waits for the train, for his day to begin. It’s the text on a packed schedule that must be followed to the second, that’s always growing. It’s the blank face of the vid-screen in his room, always waiting for a call that will leave him emptier than he was before.

It’s the color of the chemical in his eyes and mouth and hair as he runs from men with guns and prays that he’ll survive. It’s the eyes of the monster they created, the monster they have to stop. It’s the flash of flexarium swords in the night and the voiceless enemy that leaves them on the ropes time and time again.

It’s the color of betrayal and poison and the blood he spits up as he pushes himself to the limits so his teammates can be taken to safety. It’s the glow of the screens in an underground citadel, the reflection of two people once thought to be the evil they were fighting. It’s the twinge of his wounds in a tight hug, knowing that his own father would turn him over to a death sentence if he ever knew.

It’s the color of the sparks that fly across his vision as every nerve is lit on fire, as his heart beats through his chest, as he screams himself hoarse. It’s his tears as they pool in his goggles, com nothing but static as the pain keeps coming and coming and coming until he can barely remember his own name. It’s the suit in his vision and the familiar face that he can’t place and the mobile base as he’s taken away once more.

It’s the color of his first night on his own, looking at the stars from a rooftop in Oldtown and wondering how long it will take his father to realize. The silent tears and the echoes of what could have been if he hadn’t been a coward. The chill of the night air as he heads back to where Blindstrike will pick him up.

It’s the color of battle-scars and constant injuries. The color of every bruise they gain in their constant fight. The rush of the adrenaline as he throws himself at the latest threat and the burn of his muscles, win or lose. It’s the last breath of a monster as everything comes crashing down around him years after he first put on the mask, the culmination of years of planning and strategy and sacrifice. The color of a bittersweet victory.

Yes, blue has never been Jake Armstrong’s favorite color, but as he sees the hint of that blue sky through the settling dust, hears the sounds of celebration near him, looks to the friends who have been by his side, he wonders if maybe he can’t learn to love it a little bit.


End file.
